Like money for donuts

The hickory trees had a good year producing offspring…don’t know if it’s the best year (that is, if it’s the biggest crop (that is, most number of nuts, or largest nuts)) but some of the nut casings almost fill my palm, which doesn’t often happen.

The squirrels are having a hay day, as we say.

The raccoons seem pleased, too.

None of the chickadees or titmouses seem to care.  We don’t have any other bird species large enough or with strong-enough beaks to treat hickory nuts as a major food source.

The peace and quiet of a cool, sunny, autumn morning in north Alabama is priceless.

The trees and the birds and all the other flora/fauna around me have thrived in the climate change despite period droughts and warmer winters.

What about the ones who haven’t thrived?

We had a few years where the tree frogs around here deafened us with their summer mating calls.

Now, not so many.

Armadillos swept through a few years ago, unable to establish a permanent colony in the woods around my house.

Same for the fire ants.

The ecosystem of a deciduous forest…sigh, this is my home.

Why?  I guess because I was born in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, even though I spent a couple of my formative years in the inner flatlands of southern Florida.

Primarily, though, I have lived within a few-hours drive of the Appalachian mountain range, which few people know stretches from Georgia all the way up the East Coast into Maine.

On a day like today, this is all I have to say and observe.  I have no need to perpetuate the thoughts and ideas of others wanting my attention.

I am, after all, happy being myself, and that is a word to the wise, which is sufficient.

Have a great day, my little chickadees!

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